Teach Me To Forgive
by UndoneChaos
Summary: A past accident with Cartman's mom has changed his life... For the better. But will Kyle ever fully believe he's changed? One question. More of a demand. 'Teach Me To Forgive'. Because Cartman needs Kyle's help, and this might be the one thing that convinces the Jew that Eric Theodore Cartman truly is good. Rating M for later chapters. Better than it sounds.
1. Cartman's Morning

**I'm actually doing it? I'm actually doing it! I'm writing a Kyman multi-chapter fic! As soon as I finish 'Campout', I'm going to put all of my effort into this baby! LOVE FOR ALL! **

**~WARNING~:**

**This fanfiction will contain graphic violence, total gayity, complete smut, and ** **BDSM** ** galore. If you aren't interested, I suggest you take your business somewhere else.**

**I will try to update everyday, even if the chapters are short like this one. I don't like to dissapoint my readers. ****⬅ (****TOTAL HYPOCRITE RIGHT HERE)**

_**Eric Theodore Cartman's Point of View**_

"Poopsykins, wake up! Wake up, honey, it's time for school!" my mom called from down the stairs.

"But mee~hm, can't I stay home?" I whined, groaning as I opened my eyes.

"No, poopsy. You have a History test today", my mom smiled at me from her newfound place in my doorway.

"But meeee~hm–" she cut me off.

"Eric, I said no! Now, please, get up!" she then turned on her heel and walked down the stairs.

"Bitch", I grumbled under my breath. I lazily sat up and swung my legs over the side of my bed. I slowly staggered over to my dresser where I pulled out a shirt and threw it on. I then grabbed some pants from my bottom drawer and pulled those on as well. "God damn pants are getting too tight", I said, looking in my mirror and frowning.

"Poopsy, breasfast is ready!" I groaned and grabbed my jacket off of my bed before stomping down the stairs into the kitchen.

"Ooh, did you make me a toaster pastry chocolate mix butter bar?" I asked. When she nodded and handed it to me, I grinned smugly. "Thanks, mom", I said before scarfing down my breakfast.

I was soon done and ready to go to school. "Mehm, I'm going now", I called.

"Have fun at school, Eric!" I got in response. I then walked out into the snowy air. Trudging through the foot of dead blizzard on the ground, I slowly made my way to the bus stop. As every day prior to being in third grade, I was the first one there. Which was so totally unlike me that it almost made me scream.

I stood and waited at the bus stop for a few moments, tapping my fingers against my arms, which were crossed over my chest. I tried to pass the time until Kenny or Stan got there, but then I remembered that Kenny had the flu and Stan was in Reno. I sighed.

After a few more minutes of finger tapping, he finally showed up. "So, fatass, you got here before me, huh? Looks like you do care".

"Shut your goddamned Jew mouth. I only got here first because you… Took so long! I don't give a crap about epidemics!" I shouted at Kyle, who had come to stand next to me.

"Education. And I can see that, what with you _skipping the History test_", he said sarcastically.

"Ey! My mehm made me go!" I argued.

"Oh, so you're a momma's boy now?" Kyle grinned, obviously enjoying insulting me.

"Dude. Not cool. You know my mom had luekemia last year. I vowed to GOD that I would be better to her if he made her healthy. He did, and I figured that if I didn't hold up my end of the bargain, he could take her away just as easily as he made her better", I explained.

"Dude. Sorry", Kyle's face had just the slightest bit of remorse, and he looked as if he were going to say something else, but just then the bus pulled up.

"Yeah, whatever", I said, and climed up the stairs, walking past our bus driver, some Mexican dude named Herardo Alvares-Gonzolas. Or something. We called him hag, for short.

Kyle followed me up the stairs, sitting next to me once I had found a seat. "Did you study?" he asked me nonchalantly.

"SHIT, no!" I cried, banging my head against the back of the seat in front of me. "Dear Jesus I'm going to fail! Then mom will get sick again, and God'll take her away..."

"It's ok, fatass. I'll help you on the way to school", Kyle said, pulling out his History book from his backpack.

I swear, sometimes, I could just kiss that boy. But I won't! That'd be gay, right?

**You can tell that Cartman's mom having luekemia changed him. **

**Eeag, so now that my computer's almost dead, I must bid you good day. GOOD DAY!**

**Ciao for now**

–**Chaos **


	2. Kyle's Morning

**Oh my goodness, Cartman was so OOC in the last chapter… Sorry :P**

**BUT, I promise that Kyle is way more IC than Cartman was. So, here we go! (BTW, the warning for this is in the first chapter.)**

**Disclaimer: I dun owneh South Park! Well duh, I don't own it. **

_**Kyle Broflovski's Point of View:**_

"Bubbelah, it's time for school!" my mom said, physically and verbally waking me from my peaceful dream as she shook me and shouted in my ear. I cringed.

"Uhg, ok mom. I'm up!" I opened my eyes and was met by a glimpse of my mom walking out my door.

"Good, honey. Hurry up and get ready now, you have a History test today!" I groaned and hauled myself out of bed, walking over to my dresser. I opened a few drawers before deciding on a green shirt and a pair of orange skinny jeans.

I grabbed my matching coat off of my desk chair before heading down the stairs to my kitchen. I smelled bacon. Huh, bacon? One of my favorite foods, but very rare in our strictly-ruled Jewish family. Mom always said that she was too _busy_ to get the bacon blessed. "You're making bacon?" I asked my mom, looking at her strangely.

"Of course, bubbey! It's a special day, you have a big test ahead of you!" she smiled.

"Oh, ok? Thanks, ma", I said, and sat down to eat my breakfast.

Once I had finished eating I waved to my mom, grabbed my coat, and walked out into the cool winter air.

I trudged to the bus stop, humming to myself. All too soon I was there, and _he_ greeted my vision.

"So, fatass, you got here before me, huh? Looks like you do care", I called to Cartman. He swiveled around and glared at me.

"Shut your goddamned Jew mouth. I only got here first because you… Took so long! I don't give a crap about epidemics!" he shouted. I walked over to stand next to him, waiting for the bus.

"Education. And I can see that, what with you _skipping the History test_", I said sarcastically.

"Ey! My mehm made me go!" he argued.

"Oh, so you're a momma's boy now?" I grinned. I was quite enjoying insulting him.

"Dude. Not cool. You know my mom had leukemia last year. I vowed to GOD that I would be better to her if he made her healthy. He did, and I figured that if I didn't hold up my end of the bargain, he could take her away just as easily as he made her better", he explained. Oh, yeah. Way to make me feel like an asshole, Cartman.

"Dude. Sorry", my face showed the slightest bit of guilt. I was about to say something else, but just then the bus pulled up.

"Yeah, whatever", he said, and climbed up the stairs, walking past our bus driver, some Mexican dude named Herardo Alvares-Gonzolas. Or something. Cartman, Kenny, and Stan called him hag, for short.

I followed him up the stairs, sitting next to him once he had found a seat. "Did you study?" I asked him nonchalantly.

"SHIT, no!" he cried, banging his head against the back of the seat in front of us. "Dear Jesus I'm going to fail! Then mom will get sick again, and God'll take her away..."

"It's ok, fatass. I'll help you on the way to school", I said, pulling out my History book from my backpack.

"Really?" he asked, looking relieved.

"Yes, King of the Lard Tubs, I will", I said, smirking.

Sometimes, just sometimes, I think that maybe Cartman _has_ changed. But he couldn't of! This is fatass we're talking about here, remember? He couldn't change for anything! Could he?

**I wrote that whole chapter in class. YEP, and then I had to type it up as well. Hope you enjoyed it! :P**

**Ciao for now**

–**Chaos**

**P.S. I'll try really hard to update every day, maybe even more.**


	3. History Tests

**Here's chapter three! OK, so how do you like my story so far? I don't exactly know what I think of it yet. It's kinda strange to me, but…**

**OH! Did you guys see the newest episode of SP? IT WAS HILARIOUS! I usually don't like episodes about Randy, but this one was a riot. :P**

**Disclaimer: IDOSP**

_**Cartman's POV**_

"Ooh, Kahl, I don't feel good. I think that maybe I should–" I was cut off by the Jew himself, who had swiveled around from his spot next to me to stop me from walking forward.

"No, Cartman. You'll do fine. We studied on the bus, remember? Jesus, fatass", he sighed, still standing in front of me. People in the halls were starting to give us strange looks.

"Ok, fine. I won't call home, you dumb Jew", I spat, and tried to push my way past him. Which was unbelievably hard. Surprisingly.

"Good. Look, dumbass, I'm only trying to help you because I–" he stopped himself and blushed before returning to my side. "Never mind. Fail if you want. I'm going to class", he then started to walk away towards our History class.

"God dammit, he's got sand in his vagina again", I sighed, and walked after him.

…

When I had caught up to him, he was already in class, and the test was already in session. I groaned.

"Oh, Meester Cahrtmehn, 'ow nice ov you to joeen us?" the teacher, Mrs. Pekkonov, said sarcastically. I glared at her before taking a seat in one of the empty desks in the back of the room. She walked up to me and handed me my test, which she had already–apparently–put my name on. At least, I think it said my name. But last time I checked, I don't spell my name Г-н Эрик Картман.

I sighed as I stared at the test questions. Apparently in 10th grade, you don't get easy questions like 'who was the first president?'. That's easy. It was Abraham Lincoln. I think. I groaned again.

"Meester Cahrtmehn, I would appreciate it eev you deedn't deesturbe my class", Mrs. Pekkonov said from her desk. I flipped her off when she wasn't looking and went back to answer my test questions.

…

"So, how'd you do, fatass?" Kyle asked me as we walked from History class to lunch.

"Not good, probably. Half of the things we went over weren't even on the test! God domed history, I hate it, I hate it!" I whined, hitting my fist against some loser's locker.

"Cartman, Cartman calm down!" Kyle said, reaching for my arm to stop me hitting something–or someone–else. "Look, you can always redo the test if you aren't happy with your score. _And_ if you need help, I'll–" he stopped and stared reluctantly at me. "I'll help you".

"Like I need help from a no-good, lying, stinking Jew!" I said, but deep down I felt grateful. We walked into the lunch room and he walked away from me, to sit down by Stan and Kenny. I went over to the lunch bar to get my lunch, and then joined them.

**So, since no one wants to read about lunch eating, I decided to not write that. So how'd you like it? I think I'm doing good, but reviews always help.**

**Ciao for now**

–**Chaos**


	4. Studying

**Here it is! The chapter where things get more interesting!**

**Disclaimer: Don't own SP**

**SECOND WARNING: ****Self harm in later chapters.**

_**Kyle's POV**_

Oh my god. I almost said it. I almost said it! Oh man…

I can't love him. No way! Then how come those words almost left my mouth this morning? I don't love fatass! I don't even care about him! All he is is a no-good, lying, insensitive bastard! He'll never change!

I kicked a can that had crossed my path and groaned when I heard heavy breathing behind me.

Not now…

"Kahl! Wait up!" Cartman's heavy gasps of breath were soon right in my ear as he came up to walk next to me.

"What do you want, fatass?" I asked, praying that I wouldn't slip up and spew some speech about how I've loved him all along. I bit my tongue and waited for his answer.

"H-history. N-need help", he panted, holding up his History book for me to see. I shook my head.

"Can't you ask someone else? The_ teacher,_ for instance?" he glared at me.

"You promised to help me, Jew!" he spat, still heavily breathing. Jesus, he needs to lose weight. Then maybe he'd look more– GAH! Fuck my brain, it's trying to betray me.

"Alright, lardo. Just… Please try to FOCUS this time?" I sighed, and started to walk faster in order to get home quicker.

"Don't call me fat, you stupid Jew!" he whined, jogging to keep up with my long strides.

"Is that the only bad name you have for me?" I said, chuckling.

"Nope, _Kike_", he spat. I urned around to glare at him. And I love this guy?

"Do you want my help or not?" I growled. Guess I shouldn't have encourage him with the name thing.

"Yes, yes! I-I'm sorry Kahl. Just please help me. I need to get better at this", he pleaded. We had reached my house and I reached on top of the door frame, grabbing the key and then unlocking the door.

"Well, we're already here. Mind as well. Are you coming in or not?" I asked, standing in my doorway. He pushed past me into my house and started to walk up the stairs.

"A simple excuse me would have sufficed", I muttered to myself as I recovered from being squised into the door frame.

…

"So Henry VII was the king when?" I asked. God, teaching Cartman History was almost hopeless!

"1864. No wait, 1922. No wait. It was 1657", he said, a look of utter confusion on his face.

"1457. You were two centuries off, fatass", I said, slamming my History book shut. "I'm gonna make a snack. You want something?"

"The least Kosher thing in this household, please", I stopped and stared at him.

"You just said please!" I gasped, shocked.

"Alright then, how's about 'bitch go make me some goddamned food'!" he rolled his eyes at me. I turned around and walked down the stairs. No way he's changed. No fucking–He just said PLEASE for Jehovah's sake! Cartman never says please. I need to get my ears cleaned.

**So, I lied. Next chapter is the **_**real**_** exciting chapter. **

**Ciao for now**

–**Chaos**

**P.S. The next chapter will be up within from 1:44 AM (which is right now where I live) to some time in the distant future. Maybe 5:30 AM if I'm still up then.**


	5. Dreaming? Or Reality?

**Contrary to popular belief, this chapter is not late. I think. I hope? Anyways, I know you're all thinking 'quit stalling!', so here we go!**

_**Cartman's POV**_

God, History sucks.

I sat in the middle of Kyle's room on the floor, waiting for the Jew himself to come back up with my food, and all I could think was 'history sucks'.

Well, that, and I SAID PLEASE TO THE KIKE! I never say please to him on anything basic like that. God, the way I said it, we sounded like an old married couple!

I don't want that. I don't want him. Sure, I'll admit to getting sadistic pleasure over hurting him. I love it when he's upset. It brings me great happiness.

But I don't care about him. Never, I never could. Then why do my thoughts always drift to him when I'm in class? Whenever I see him, my heartbeat gets faster? Why am I always running to him for help?

"Alright, fatass, here's your snack", I cringe at the nickname. Kyle's always called me 'fatass', along with Kenny, Stan, and everyone else I know! But hearing it from him is like a knife to the heart. Does he really not care about me? Jesus, I sound like a gaymo! And he's probably waiting for an answer anyways…

"Hand it here, you stupid Jew!" I spat, trying to regain my tough composure. Apparently, I didn't do a very good job, because Kyle noticed.

"Cartman? What's wrong?" he said, a _tiny_ hint of 'I care about you' in his voice.

"Nothing. Give me my goddamned food!" I growled. He looked at me disbelievingly, stopping where he stood to sit down next to me.

"Cartman, I ate you. But seriously, what's wrong?" Geez, I don't know, you hate me? I sighed. Let's see how long I can play this game before admitting my feelings and running away like a high school girl.

"Nothing, kike", I looked away, letting my eyes wander to the plate of food in his hand. Hah, cheesy poofs! Wait, those aren't Kosher. Then why would he–

"Eric, tell me what's wrong!" I almost chocked on a sob. Eric? God I wanted to hug him right there. He's never, not once, called me Eric.

I need to shoot myself. Honestly, I'm turning into a fucking 'poofter', as Stan's grandpa would say. Poor man's _still_ alive. Jesus, he's what now? 110? Wow.

"I–Uh" I was at a loss for words. Kyle gripped my shoulder and turned me to face him.

"Eric Theodore Cartman, if you don't tell me what's wrong _right_ now, so help me god…" My whole name now? Maybe I've underestimated him. Maybe he does care. Let's play just a _little _longer.

"Nothing. Forget it. Nothing, I'm fine", I said, silently feeling the opposite.

"Goddammit, I hate you!" he spat, hitting me on the arm. Ow, harsh. "All I ever try to do is help you, Jesus! I'm going downstairs, maybe when I get back you'll open up your fat, insensitive heart for once!" he then set go of me and stormed out of the room.

Fat, wet tears were falling freely down my face. I wiped one away. No. No tears for the Jew. I got up and walked into the bathroom that was attached to Kyle's room. Turning around and shutting the door, I crouched down and proceeded to look through the cabinets.

"Aha", I whispered, pulling out a brand new razor. Slowly and carefully, I took the blade out, throwing the other thing away.

I sat down on the toilet, being positively careful not to make a sound, and gently brought the blade to my wrist.

Crimson blood leaked from the small cut, the pink skin around it now irritated and protruding from my arm. I had no intention of ending my life, no. Just a small cut, here and there, no one would even notice.

"Dear fucking Jehovah, what the shit are you doing?" Kyle cried, looking at me in horror from his stance in the bathroom doorway. Crap, forgot to lock the door.

I looked up at him, not bothering to hold back the small tears that clung to the corners of my eyes, begging to be let free. A small, crooked, and very pathetic smile forming on my lips, I let out a sob-incased laugh.

"This is what you make me do", I said simply and truthfully, letting the bloodied razor blade fall from my pudgy fingers as I held up my opposing arm, letting him see each and every wound. Some were old, some were new and dripping fresh, new blood.

"I-I! I make– Cartman what the–How the–" Kyle looked as if he were about to cry as he ran into the bathroom and dropped next to me, picking up my cut arm and looking at it in absolute shock.

"I've tried denying my feelings, but my heart betrays my mind. I know you don't love me back, don't worry", I said very seriously, looking at Kyle's every movement, especially interested in the one when he picked up the blade himself and brought it to his own wrist. Wait…

"I can't live with that guilt, Cartman!" he shouted, and with that, pushed the blade into his skin. A small, mangled cry escaped my throat as I was now the one to wear the look of horror. I immediately sprung to action, pulling the blade from his long, slender, and now bloodied fingers.

"NO! What the fuck is wrong with you?" I stared at him intently, waiting for an answer.

"I–I can't live with the guilt of making you hurt yourself… Because I love you!" As soon as the words left his chapped lips, he started crying again. My initial reaction was to look at him like he was crazy for loving me, but my emotions were too high strung to care. I pulled him into a very poor hug, trying to will every being of me to channel my love to him.

"I… I love you too, Kyle", I said, and with that, my eyes snapped open.

"CARTMAN! This is the seventh time I've asked you, goddammit! What, did you fall asleep or something?" I looked around at my surroundings. Books were strewn everywhere, pencils on the floor. I was in Kyle's room, and we were studying History.

"Huh? What was the question?" I called, trying to push all of the thoughts of the dream I had had to the back of my mind.

"What do you want to eat?" Kyle called back. Oh yeah.

"Uh, I'm not really hungry anymore", I said, for it was the truth. That strange-ass dream had taken away every last ounce of my hunger.

"Ok, then", Kyle said. A few minutes later he was back in the room, and was looking at me oddly. "What the fuck's up with you, fatass?" he asked.

"Nothing. Just had a super weird dream", I replied.

"Oh, really? How weird?"

"Like, you don't even know", I closed my eyes as the image of me and Kyle hugging entered my mind once again. They say all dreams are a sign. Do I really love the Kike?

**Well THAT was a long chapter. And very emotional too! I know half of you are probably thinking:**

**Bububububu! They didn't REALLY confess love?**

**Of course not! That'd be too early, dummy!**

**Ciao for now**

–**Chaos**


	6. The Demand

**I just realized that at the beginning of the story I made Kenny sick and Stan in Reno, but then later in the day Cartman and Kyle were eating lunch with them? Whoops. Ignore that error please.**

**Anyway, here's chapter six. What **_**really**_** happened during Cartman and Kyle's study time!**

**Also… Apologies on this being so late! My screwy mind had to take a break from it to plan out my next story! I know, I think ahead way too much.**

**Disclaimer: *facepalm***

_**Kyle's POV**_

"Hey fatass, want to take a break?" I asked, shutting my History book halfway. Me and Cartman had been studying for over two hours, and I was surprised at how well he was doing. He had really broken down and started to learn, and was getting most of he questions right. I was super stoked that I didn't have to push him into learning.

"Oh? Yeah!" he said, looking up from his History book slowly.

"Great. So… What do you want to do?" I asked awkwardly.

"I don't know, Jew. You're the one who brought up us taking a break. I figured you'd have a plan", he replied smart-aleckly. I groaned. Fabulous, we had nothing to do. We sat in silence for about five minutes before I looked at Cartman, who appeared to be deep in thought.

"Cartman? What are you thinking about?" He turned to me slowly, tears glistening in the corners of his eyes. Wait, what?

"Fatass, are you crying?" I asked tentatively. His response was a quick one, the words being some of those that I never thought would come out of fatass's mouth.

"Teach me to forgive", he whispered. I blinked.

"Wh-what?" I pulled a what we call 'Stan' when I spoke the word, laughing nervously.

"Teach me to forgive, Kahl, please. I don't want to live with the rage anyone. I always blame everyone else for things that are my fault. I can never forgive them. They didn't do anything wrong! And what about the gingers, huh? And Scott Tenorman? My inability to forgive made me the most hated person between those people. Why does everyone hate me?" he looked at me very sincerely, but I still thought it was a trick.

"Uh, are you being serious?" I blinked again. This was fatass changing, I thought. This was his last step from Cartman to Eric. And he wanted me to help him.

"Yes! Yes, I'm being serious!" Ok, now I know it. H didn't say 'being seriously', he said 'being serious'. I looked at him with softened eyes, and nodded.

"Yeah, Cartman. I'll help you" I said, thinking that maybe, just maybe, he really, really, _really_ could change.

**Sorry for the short chapter! I'll be going now, see you next time.**

**Ciao for now**

–**Chaos**


	7. Chapter Seven? I Got Title Lazy

**Ok, so my mom just told me my writing was 'effortless'. I called her a jerk until she explained what she meant. And I quote: "It's like I'm actually sitting in the room listening to the conversation, instead of having you read it to me". I love my mom.**

**Dear Lord I'm sorry this chapter is so late! I had a mini case of writer's block which i relieved myself of by redrawing some of my favorite artists' pictures.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own South Park. Matt & Trey do. They are the geniuses in this operation, not me.**

**:WARNING: There will be slight boyXboy in this chapter. Don't like, don't read. Also, I WARNED YOU IN THE FIRST CHAPTER WHAT THE FLYING SQUIRREL ARE YOU STILL DOING HERE?**

_**Cartman's POV**_

It had been a week since I had asked the favor of the Jew. A whole week. Progress was… Well, unmoving. I don't think he knew what the first step was. He tried to explain it to me once…

_"Ok, Cartman. The first step in forgiving is to not let that person get to you."_

_I sat in the middle of his room, tapping my pencil on the floor. "Yeah? How do I do that?"_

_"Well, whenever you feel… Mad… Just– Dude, I don't know. I don't have problems like you.''_

_"Says the Kike who gets pissed at every little thing I say."_

_"You're pushing your luck, fatass!"_

As you can see, it didn't turn out well. Anyway, that was the last time he had tried. I kept trying to prove to him that I could do it myself. Strange, since I was the one who asked _him_ for help. That's exactly what he thought. But he said if I could prove to him that I could do it myself, he'd take me to Casa Bonita.

Yes I still love that place. Go ahead, judge me. I won't get mad. I know I'm fat as fuck.

Just kidding. If you even dare say a fucking–

"Cartman! You're doing it again!" I glanced up at Kyle, who was standing next to me. We had been walking yet again over to his house.

"God, I know! I try, Kahl. I do. It's just so fucking hard to not get pissed!" He looked at me solemnly, placing his hands on my shoulders seeing as he now faced in front of me.

"Then try harder", he said softly. I breathed out. I didn't want to be ma around him. He was just too… Nice to stay mad at. Wow, that sounded gay. Let's just hope I don't fall asleep and have another self-harm fucking sap-ass dream again.

I wanted to get him off me. He was just too close to my personal space. I didn't want to flip and kiss him… So I got him off of me. THe only way I knew how. I punched him.

And the reaction I got was not one I had expected.

**Don't worry. I'm posting two chapters today. LOVE FOR ALL!**

**Ciao for now**

–**Chao**


	8. Kyle's Secret

**Ok, I lied. The only boy/boy in that chapter were Cartman's thoughts.**

**This will be a longer chapter. I hope.**

**Disclaimer: Don't own**

**:WARNING: Violence, sadomasochism**

**Since I left the last chapter as a cliffhanger, this will still be in**

_**Cartman's POV**_

He moaned.

"Oh, GOHD!" As soon as the noise left his lips he blushed, and all I could think was 'what?'.

I mean, I know I haven't punched him in… Wow, forever! But I'm pretty sure that the last time I punched him he didn't _moan_. And it wasn't a 'oh, fuck that hurt' moan, either. The look on his face as the noise left his lips was a… 'I want more' one.

What? This made no sense. I backed away from him slowly, looking at him as if he were an alien from planet Brong. Which isn't even a real place.

"Wait, Cartman…" he said shakily, trying to regain his composure.

"What the… Fuck, Kike?" But he didn't wince at the name. He shivered. What the fuck is up with him?

"No, I have something to say!" Well, you sure are taking your sweet time.

"Then say it, Jew, or I'll punch you again!" He shivered again, and I'm pretty sure he mouthed the word 'please'.

God dammit, I hate not knowing things. I let my hand, which had been holding his unconsciously holding his wrist, slip to my side.

"I– I" he blushed again. That's it, I was done! I raised my arm to his and punched him again. Maybe this was a fluke. Maybe I was dreaming. But when my pudgy fist collided with his skinny-ass arm, he moaned again. No blush this time, no shame. Wait a mine! My brain kicked into gear as I realized what was going on.

"You're maso!" I shouted, surprised. He glanced up at me with glazed eyes and nodded. Holy shit… The Jew was a masochist? Oh, this'll be fun.

I hated to think the thoughts that kept running through my head, but this is what I've always wanted! For the Kike to be on his knees at my feet, begging me to _keep hitting him_. I didn't want to think those thoughts. I was getting better! I was letting go of my sado ways… I didn't want to hurt people!

And then there was the bigger part of my brain that directed my fist to his chest.

"Ah!" he looked at me with begging eyes as the shout left his mouth. Such a pretty noise… And the part of me that cared was gone.

"You like that, Jew?" I whispered, hitting him again. This caused him to fall down at my feet, arching his back and shaking as he nodded. I crouched down in front of him and grabbed his face rather harshly, turning him to look at me. He whimpered, staring me down with half-lidded eyes. I was about to hit him again when a thought crossed my mind. I dropped my hand from his face and stood up, starting to walk away.

"Wait, Cartman… _Please_!" he cried, and a sadistic smile crossed my face. I turned around to face him once more.

"Yes, Jew?" I laughed at his reaction to the name. Oh, he was just loving this, wasn't he? Well good. I was too.

"I…" he glanced up at me, nervous. "I w–" So difficult, isn't it? To admit that you want your lifelong enemy to beat the shit out of you? I felt a pang of sympathy run through me, but it didn't show on my locked expression. It didn't reach my cold eyes.

"What?" I snarled. Oh, somebody pinch me, I'm dreaming.

"H-hurt me more!" he begged, letting himself collapse in the middle of the road, laying back with his arms above him head. Every sharp breath he took shook his body, and tears leaked from his eyes. It was very obvious now, anyone could see it. He was hard, for me. For _pain_. I walked toward him, looking down at him.

"In the middle of the road?" I laughed. He didn't seem to care.

"Please" Please, hit me! Burn me, cut me, I don't care. Hurt me!" his beautiful emerald eyes were so clouded over that I couldn't even see their color. Just a smoky, hazy, whisper of green. I don't even know if he was looking at me.

"No." He winced at the word.

"Why?" he cried, arching his back into the air.

"Not here. In the road?" I don't think so", I held my arms out and grabbed his wrists, pulling him up.

…

When we had gotten to my house, he had almost snapped out of it.

"What the fuck happened? Why do my arms hurt?" Oh, poor, confused Kyle.

"You don't remember? Well, maybe this will jar your memory." We had reached his room and I pushed him rather hardly onto his bed. He let out a small gasp.

"You laid in the road and begged me to hurt you", I whispered, laughing. He looked at me curiously, with a twinge of remembrance in his expression.

"I did?" I snorted.

"No shit you did! I told you 'no fucking way'! At least, not in the road. You looked like you were going to shoot your load the second I touched you". He blushed profusely.

"Jackass! I don't… I really did that, didn't I? Sorry, my– I mean…" he looked away nervously for a second before diverting his attention to the bookshelf across from him. "I can't control it" he apologized. I kinda felt bad for him, for about half a second. But remembering how… _Vulnerable_ he had looked not ten minutes ago…

"Kyle! Snack's ready!" Oh, how I dreaded that fat lady's voice.

"Your mom is suck a cockblock", I grunted, heaving myself from my position above Kyle. He punched me. "It doesn't work on _me_, Kike." He shuddered at the name again.

You have no shame", he said, getting up from the bed.

"Says the boy that was laying in the_ middle of the road_ practically begging me to _beat him to death_", I growled.

"Alright, ass! Never mention that again!" he then turned and walked downstairs to the kitchen, where his fat bitch of a mom and our after-school snack resided.

_And he thinks it won't happen again…_

How I would prove him wrong. Good thing his parents are going to a party tonight.

**There was my extra long chapter for you! OMG that was weird to write. excuse any errors. Tell me what you thought!**

**Ciao for now**

–**Chaos **


	9. The Proposition

**This is like a filler chapter to the next one, which will be more BDSM-y.**

**Disclaimer: IDUNOWN**

_**Kyle's POV**_

"Alright, Cartman. Parents are gone and food's here", I said as I walked back into my room, holding our after school snack. He glanced up at me evilly.

"So, the Kike's back with the food, hmm?" I tried to hold back the shiver that coursed through my body at the name. I'm not supposed to be this way… But then again, I have an idea that might just fix my problem and his.

"Y-yeah", I said shakily, setting down the food on my desk before turning to face Cartman. "I wish to impose a proposition, a solution if you may, to both of our… Problems", I blushed as the last word left my mouth.

"Say it in English, please?" I sighed. Leave it to Cartman to be clueless at a time of importance.

"I think I might know how to make you not angry", I said, dumbing it down. A look of realization crossed his face.

"Ohh", he said. "So then what is it?" he asked impatiently. Just like him, I thought. I took a deep breath before stating what I thought to be the perfect situation for both of us.

"Well you're always so angry, right? And it's not good for you to have all of that pent-up rage", I blushed before speaking the next words. "I'm a masochist, and pain is my pleasure". He nodded, still looking confused.

"And?" he asked.

"Well, to be frank, you like hurting and I like being hurt", I said. The look still remained plastered on his pudgy face.

"I don't know where you're going with this", he admitted. I sighed, blushing furiously. I had to get through with this, or he'd never be better. I'm doing this for him, not me.

"What I'm trying to say is: What if when you get angry, you take it out on me?" I prayed he knew what I meant this time. He nodded as if he understood.

"Ok, so, like when I'm pissed at someone, I just beat the shit out of you?" Such a blunt response. I nodded.

"That way you're… Controlling your anger to one person… And I'm getting what I need", I swear my face couldn't get any redder right now.

"I could deal with that…" Good, he's being submissive. "Just one thing", he said, walking towards me.

"And what's that?" I asked, a bit nervous at the gleam in his eye.

"I've got a lot of pent-up rage right now… Be prepared." I gasped as his hands shoved me toward my bed, squirmed when he climbed on top of me. "One… Two… Three… GO!" he hissed and brought his mouth down to my neck, biting hard.

**Was that rushed? If yes, too bad! If no, I'm glad.**

**Hey that rhymed. Heh.**

**Ciao for now**

–**Chaos **


	10. Pent-Up Rage Let Loose

**CHAPTER WARNING! This chapter of Teach Me to Forgive contains:**

**Bondage, anal, vulgar language, sadism, masochism, etc. It also contains three different languages! Read on.**

**Disclaimer: I will bash your teeth in if you think I own South Park. I don't. matt and Trey do. They deserve all of the credit to character creation.**

"Cartman, you think you could… Loosen my binds a bit?" I said, struggling against the crude makeshift tie holding my wrists to my headboard. I don't even know how he managed it. One second we're standing, the next his fat ass is on top of me and I'm being tied to my bed.

"The whole point of this session is to let _my_ anger out however _I_ see fit. So no", he smirked smugly, running a hand over my pale, unclothed chest. I shivered at the touch, making him smirk again. "Do you want me to…"

I glared at him, half because his taunting was pissing me off, the other half being I knew what he was going to ask and HE knew what my answer would be. He nodded and leaned down, brushing his fat lips against the porcelain flesh of my neck. I arched for him to gain better access, and he bit down. Hard.

"Ohh, fuck", I moaned, rocking my body into his. He laughed, a low, deep noise in the back of his throat, and bit down again. "C-Cartman…"

"It's funny how you're putty in my hands, Jew. I knew this day would come." He flashed me his big white teeth and I growled, but I was cut off as his lips pressed against mine.

Again, I wondered how Cartman was so fast at these things. I mean, already my pants were off and his tongue was down my throat, his wide hips rocking against my very girlish ones.

He trailed his mouth away from mine, biting me anywhere he could reach. That let him down to my groin area, where he bit once right below my belly button making me practically scream. His thick, sharp claws dug into my slightly tan skin, tearing so deep blood drops were starting to appear. I couldn't take it anymore.

"Cartman… לזיין אותי", I choked out in Hebrew, arching myself into another one of his hate-bites.

"Gerne, meine kleine Jude", he breathed back in German. Well, of course. That exchange of languages was to be expected.

He reached down, wasting no time to pull off my boxers and get into his position above me. I looked skeptically at him, he must know this is going to be a Hell of a lot more painful with no preparation. But yeah, I'm into that. With one sharp, and not at all _slow_, movement, he shoved himself inside me to the hilt. And I screamed. Fuck, I screamed. And I cried. Sobbed, actually. It hurt so fucking… Good.

"God fuck! Ha…ha-ah…" He looked down at me in humor, once again digging his filthy nils into my girlish frame. I didn't want to wait for this. I shoved myself down onto his dock as far as I could without literally tearing apart. It was this that signaled him to go.

He pulled out of me just a bit before slamming back in, and taking no care that I was wailing and screeching in pain, fucked me for all I was worth. Dammit, I was gonna be sore. Blood leaked through the teeth marks and crescent moons all over my skin, and probably my ass, staining my white sheets. Cartman kept thrusting into me, hitting my prostate and making me cry out–again–in pleasure.

"Fuck-AH!-fuck-AH!-fuck-AH!" This humored him more, albeit a lot more, because he literally started laughing through grunts of pleasure. My face tinged with pink, my body torn and bleeding, one last hit to my prostate made me cum with a cry.

Cartman came slowly after, riding out mine and his orgasms, before pulling out of me, flopping onto his side next to me.

"Fuck, Jew. You like it hard."

"Fuck, Nazi. You give it hard." We then both laughed, although the pleasurable pain in my ass was immense, and sleep eventually caught up with us. I hadn't even realized my arms were still tied.

**Damn. Damn, damn, damn! BTW, if you don't know what the things in German and Hebrew mean, look them up using Bing Translator. That's how I translated them. More of this shit to come! No pun intended… o.O**

**Ciao for now**

–**Chaos **


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